


Pilot Light

by Redlineriot



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel and Dean Winchester First Meet, Crash Landing, Desert Island, Desert Island Fic, Family, Geographical Isolation, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, M/M, No Smut, Stranded, Vacation, helicopter pilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29109645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlineriot/pseuds/Redlineriot
Summary: Dean Winchester is enjoying himself in the Bahamas when a family emergency comes up back home. Desperate to go check on his family, Dean ignores the storm warnings and heavy fog and hires a laid-back helicopter pilot by the name of Castiel Novak to charter him back to America.Dean quickly realizes that maybe he should have just listened to mother nature instead of defying her, for her storms send their aircraft spiraling down onto an island in the middle of the ocean. With Castiel injured in the crash and Dean’s firecracker attitude constantly getting in the way, how will they ever find a way back home?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 29





	1. Family is Worth More Than Money

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there and welcome to my little story! If you notice any grammatical errors please let me know! I tried my best but sometimes things just slip right by me. Enjoy the story!

_Run._

_For God’s sake, run faster you stupid idiot!_

So he did. Thin sandals slapping against the hot concrete, messenger bag bouncing against his side, groups of teenagers exclaiming as he almost knocked into them, employees on golf carts who definitely had the right-of-way when it came to navigating the sidewalk. He ran past them all- squeezing between groups of people who didn’t know any better. Who didn’t know what was going on in his life that made him run so fast he could feel each heavy step shoot through his bones.

Dean had only been staying at the resort for a few days but he raced down the sidewalk like he had lived there his whole life- he had always been good with directions. It must have been his sixth sense. The doors to the lobby required a keycard and Dean’s hands were shaking so bad that he could barely swipe the card in the slot properly. The doors unlocked with a click and Dean threw them open, stumbling into the lobby of the resort.

“I need to hire a pilot!” He panted, words barely audible over his heavy breathing. He wanted to sit down, maybe catch his breath, but there isn’t enough time. There was _never_ enough time. 

There was only one worker stationed behind the desk - Dean didn’t need to read her nametag to know it was Jo - and the lobby itself was void of any tourists. 

“Excuse me?” Jo raised an eyebrow. She had grown quite familiar with Dean after his arrival at the resort (and after his failed attempt to get her to go out with him). Dean would swing by the lobby at least twice a day and chat with Jo about all the places in town that he just _had_ to see before he left. Unfortunately, he would be leaving without seeing half of those places.

“A pilot,” Dean slammed his hands down onto the check-in desk. “I need to hire a pilot.”

Jo seemed unbothered by Dean’s panicked plea and she continued to scratch something down on a yellow notepad. Dean couldn’t see what she was writing. 

“Why do you need to hire a pilot?” She cocked her head to the side but didn’t lift her eyes from the notepad. 

Dean let out a groan of exasperation. It would be so much easier if Jo was a mind-reader who could just see what Dean was thinking without him having to explain it. That would save them both a lot of time.

“Flights are grounded,” Dean grumbled. His eyes flickered over to the window and to the thick fog just beyond it, shrouding the island in a dark mist. “I need to get home.”

Only then did Jo look up. Not because of what Dean had said, but instead because another worker appeared behind the desk. Dean hadn’t seen him come in, but his thoughts were so scattered that someone could rob a bank right in front of him and he would have no idea what was going on. Dean didn’t recognize the boy who gave a limp wave to Jo, but the nametag pinned to his black polo shirt stated that his name was Gabriel.

Jo greeted him with a simple hello before tossing down her pen in defeat and looking back up at Dean. “Flights are grounded for a reason. No one in their right mind would go flying in this weather.”

“I don’t care if I have to rent a kayak and row myself back home- I need to get off this fucking island!” He was lucky he was so charismatic, otherwise, he knows that he would have had security called on him by now and probably many times before. Moments like these are when Dean really appreciates how easy he finds it to make friends. 

“You could call up Novak,” Gabriel scoffed from the corner in a derogatory tone. Despite the tone, though, Dean noticed a faint smile on his face. Novak must have been a friend of his. 

“Who’s Novak?” Dean asked immediately as he looked between Jo and Gabriel. 

“Local helicopter pilot,” Gabriel had produced an apple and was sinking his teeth into it, chewing as he finished his statement. Dean couldn’t stomach the idea of food right now. “He was practically born to fly- I mean, a real natural. Loves to show off in that stupid junker he keeps down by the docks. Little cocky if you ask me.”

“Yeah, well, nobody asked you,” Jo retorted. She pushed her hair back and pulled a face in Gabriel’s direction. Turning back to Dean, she said, “Gabe here is right. Captain Novak is probably the only person who is just crazy enough to go out in this kind of weather.”

The idea of willingly getting into a helicopter - especially one described as a “junker” - wasn’t something Dean had ever planned on doing in his lifetime. But, alas, life can throw some nasty curveballs sometimes. One of those being a family emergency so severe that it was going to force Dean to leave his vacation four days early.

“Call him, please,” Dean begged. “Price isn’t a problem- I’ll pay him whatever absurd amount he requests. I just need to get home.”

Jo sighed, her chest heaving with exaggeration. She shot daggers in Gabriel’s direction, who shook his head and grinned in response. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call him for you,” She grumbled, scooping up the phone that sat next to the desktop. 

Dean watched nervously as she punched in the numbers and twirled the phone cord around her finger. Dean could hear the line ringing and he waited, he prayed, that the person on the other end would pick up. 

Jo perked up and smiled, pointing towards the phone. “Hi, Captain Novak, this is Jo Harvelle from-” She was cut off and gave a slight nod with her head. 

Dean couldn’t make out the words coming out of the phone and decided to give up trying. Whatever was said would be passed onto him as soon as Jo hung up. Which felt like it would never happen. Time had slowed down, Dean was sure of it. He couldn’t concentrate on anything that was coming out of Jo’s mouth, let alone actually comprehend it. 

He needed to sit down. 

Dean stumbled away from the desk, earning a confused gesture from Jo, and took a seat in one of the plush chairs shoved against the pale wall. The lobby wasn’t very big, but it was proportionate to the rest of the resort. It was quaint. Relaxing. Or at least it was supposed to be. 

Eventually, he heard a click as Jo placed the phone back onto the receiver. She looked up at Dean from across the room with a face that said I can’t believe it.

“He said the earliest he can take off will be in about two hours.” She sounded rather defeated, as if she had lost a bet. “There’s a landing pad down by the docks, he said you can meet ‘em there and talk finance.”

Dean sat up in his chair and shook his head in disbelief. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He was going to get home- based on the weather (and his luck) he thought he was going to be stuck on the island, but things were looking up for a change. 

Jo mumbled something about “Actually having to get to work” and she exited the room through a back door, disappearing into the inner workings of the resort.

Dean was left alone with Gabriel and had two hours to kill, so he figured some small talk couldn’t hurt. 

“How do you know Captain Novak?”

Gabriel leaned onto the desk and tossed his apple core into a nearby trash can. “He’s my little brother,” he said, adding a playful smile to the end of his sentence. 

Dean nodded his head. “You two grew up around here?”

“We moved here as kids with the rest of our siblings and our mother,” Gabriel shrugged. 

They bantered back and forth, discussing things that had been happening around the island. It was just basic small talk, even though there was nothing small about the conversation given that it ate up about an hour's worth of time. 

Dean couldn’t stop checking his watch. He knew it was a twenty minute walk down to the docks, which would be easier than waiting to catch and shuttle (and having to pay for it). Despite the fact that he was hiring this guy, Dean still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to miss his flight, so to speak. He ended up bidding Gabriel goodbye at about half past two, just an hour before he needed to meet with Captain Novak. 

On his way down the docks, he figured it would be best to text Charlie and let her know where he was going. He was here with her, afterall. Dean reached into his messenger bag, the only bag he brought with him on this supposed relaxing vacation, and retrieved his phone. 

_Catching a helicopter out of here. I’ll keep you updated._

Feeling that he was being a bit blunt, Dean quickly sent a follow-up text. _Good luck with your meeting tomorrow._

He slipped his phone into his pocket and walked down the steps at the front of the resort, briskly making his way down the road. He was going to miss a lot of things about Great Abaco. The bright sun, the clear water and the salty breeze that accompanied it. The warm sand that stayed stuck between his toes no matter how many times he washed his feet. Soon enough he was going to be crammed into a shitty helicopter and sent on his way back home to the dreary city of Lebanon, Kansas. 

At least when he got on the plane with Charlie to come to Great Abaco he had something good waiting for him at the end of flight. Now all he has to look forward to is probably bad news. He hadn’t heard any updates from Sam and as much as he tried to wriggle some information out of his little brother, the only response he got was _I’ll tell you the details when you land._

What a bitch. 

Dean eventually arrived at the docks, which were bustling with natives and tourists alike, and began the search for a helicopter. He pushed his way through the sweaty crowd, all gathered around food stands and trinket tables. Sure, the weather was still a bit foggy, but that wasn’t going to stop paying tourists from getting the entire Bahamas experience. 

With another look up and down the dock and a quick glance at the time on his phone, Dean walked up to a relatively empty stand selling different kinds of sea shells. 

“Do you know where I can find Captain Novak- the helicopter pilot?” Dean inquired, snagging the attention of the middle-aged lady running the stand.

She gave Dean a set of directions which he followed to the other end of the dock, walking down a small side road that separated him from the bustling crowd. As soon as he turned a corner he could see a fairly large area made of sand and grass with a large black and gold helicopter plopped down right in the center. 

It was somehow bigger and smaller than Dean had expected it to be. He had never been this close to a helicopter before and the machine loomed over him, the thin blades almost threatening to cut his body in half. Every time he had flown on a commercial airline, which was probably a total of three or four times, the plane had been huge with plenty of space to walk around, along with a bathroom Dean could make a beeline to if he had to vomit. The helicopter, on the other hand, was tiny compared to a jet plane. It was like one gust of wind was going to knock this thing out of the sky. 

There was still a little bit of time until the pilot showed up, so Dean took a seat on a nearby bench. Most of the crowd was milling around on the main dock leaving Dean with a little bit of peace and quiet. He used this time to update Charlie and Sam via text messages, which were probably shorter and more straightforward than he meant for them to be. 

Every few moments Dean would glance up at the helicopter sitting just 100 feet away from him. The sun had come out now and was reflecting off the sleek black surface, which appeared to have been recently cleaned. Gabriel had referred to Novak’s helicopter as a “junker”, and while Dean wasn’t a helicopter expert, he thought that it looked pretty clean and classy. 

He would like to think that he had an eye for these sorts of things, given that he spends almost all of his time in a garage doing restoration work and repairs on cars. He could tell the difference between a well-loved car and one that sat around collecting dust. One thing was for sure- Novak took good care of his helicopter. Clean, tucked away from the crowd, hidden from the majority of the afternoon sun by surrounding trees. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad afterall. 

“Dean!” 

Dean looked up from the safety of his bench to see Charlie jogging down the boardwalk, a popsicle in each hand. She strolled up alongside Dean and held out one of her hands, waiting for Dean to take the frozen treat. 

“Margarita popsicle?” She asked as Dean accepted the offer. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Got anything stronger?” 

Charlie shook her head and plopped down next to Dean, stretching her arm high above her head while the other raised the popsicle to her mouth. 

“Holding up okay?” Charlie could be referring to _many_ things- Dean’s fear of flying, the issue back home, or the fact that he had to leave the Bahamas four days early. 

He shrugged and licked his popsicle. “Peachy.”

Dean could see Charlie eyeing the helicopter. He couldn’t quite read her expression, but he was sure it was something along the lines of _I can’t believe Dean Winchester is going to put himself on a tiny ass helicopter and fly over the ocean just to go deal with the aftermath of a bad car accident._

“Any word on your dad?” It was a harmless question, but it just reminded Dean about how shitty this whole situation is. 

“Sam told me he would give me details when I land, but I don’t think anything noteworthy has happened yet,” Dean told her as he breathed out a heavy sigh. 

Charlie didn’t respond to this, maybe because she knew there was nothing to be said. It was a shitty situation and the only thing left to do was for Dean to hop on a helicopter and get back home. 

Dean licked away at his margarita popsicle, wishing Charlie had brought him a bottle of whiskey instead. He knew that he could have just gone to his doctor and asked for some prescribed Xanax, but when has Dean liked to do things the easy way? Spoiler alert: Never.

Suddenly there was an elbow in his guts and Charlie was shaking him out of his popsicle sucking trance, directing his attention down the boardwalk. Dean spotted a man walking in their direction with an open suit jacket and blue tie blowing in the breeze. 

“That must be your pilot,” Charlie nudged him. 

The man, assumed to be Novak, had a large jacket folded over his arm and a small bag in one of his hands. Not too many people walked up and down the docks carrying luggage while dressed in a suit. He gave a curt nod in Dean’s direction. 

“Dean Winchester?” The man asked as he approached, removing his pair of reflective sunglasses to reveal a set of blue eyes that competed with the ocean a few yards away. 

Dean nodded his head and rose from the bench, giving a quick good-bye hug to Charlie before following the captain over to the helicopter. 

“I assume you’re Captain Novak?” 

“You can just call me Castiel,” He held out a hand to shake. 

“Castiel,” Dean echoed. He gripped Castiel’s hand tightly, making note of how rough his skin was. 

Dean watched as the helicopter pilot reached into his pocket to produce a large set of keys. He fumbled with them for a moment before inserting one into the side of the helicopter, popping open one of the front doors and tossing his stuff inside. 

“So, Mr. Winchester-”

“Dean,” Dean interrupted. Mr. Winchester was too formal- reminded him too much of his dad. 

“Dean,” Castiel corrected himself. “Jo tells me you need to get back to the States?” He shifted his weight and put one hand on his hip, raising his eyebrows. 

Dean nodded and noticed how Castiel’s eyes flicked down to the popsicle Dean was eating. The pilot tilted his head ever so slightly before standing up straight once again. 

“I can get you to Miami- you can catch a layover from there if needed. That sound alright to you?” 

Dean felt his mouth go dry when he realized he was actually going to have to get into the helicopter. He hated flying. He hated it so much. He doesn’t know quite where the fear came from- all he knows is that it has dictated every road trip he’s ever taken. 

“Dean? Does that sound alright?” 

Dean blinked and swallowed the little bit of saliva hanging in his throat before nodding his head vigorously. “Yeah, yeah. Sounds great, man.”

Castiel chuckled softly and placed one of his hands on the side of the helicopter as if it was a large black stallion rather than a well oiled machine. “Nervous flier?” 

Dean shook his head and bit off the last chunk of his popsicle. He tossed the wooden stick into a nearby trash can, earning a nod of impressment from Castiel. “Is it that obvious?” 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about,” Castiel smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m a great pilot.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Dean grumbled. 

Castiel took a few steps so that the sun was now shining directly on him, the light making his black hair look almost blue. 

“Just try to relax,” Castiel told him. There was something about his tone, or maybe his posture, maybe it was the slightly unbuttoned collar, but there was something about him that Dean trusted. He was actually kind of okay with trusting this guy with his life.


	2. Should Have Listened to Mother Nature

Dean sat nervously in the middle of the back row of seats. The interior of the helicopter wasn’t too bad- the black plush seats had gone through their fair share of wear-and-tear, and there were a few mysterious stains on the floor, but Dean didn’t pay too much attention to his surroundings. He was trying his best not to look out the windows, but it was hard when he was practically surrounded by them. His curiosity had gotten the better of him a few times already, resulting in Dean leaning over to glance out the side window or look up out the front window. There was nothing but sky and ocean, melding into each other as the blues blurred and the horizon stretched on. 

The flight should barely last two hours. Two hours was nothing. Two hours was like listening to the Master of Puppets album twice. He could survive two hours. 

“How are you holding up?” Castiel’s voice came through the headset, crackling in Dean’s ears. 

Dean shuddered at the reminder of the thick pair of headphones clamped on his head. They were uncomfortable and heavy, making his ears sweat and giving him the strangest headache. 

“Pretty good,” He lied. 

“Don’t think I can’t see you wiping your hands on your pants every five minutes,” Castiel laughed. It was a warm laugh; warmer than the sun-bleached beaches he had spent the past few days visiting. Warmer than those weird steaming shots he and Charlie did the first night they arrived. Warmer than the stuffy air inside the helicopter cabin. 

“You got me there,” Dean admitted, wryly. “How long have we been up?”

Dean knew exactly how long they had been up. He had been checking his phone every five minutes, despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get text messages in the middle of the ocean. 

“‘Bout 20 minutes,” Castiel told him.

Dean nodded- _it wasn’t about 20 minutes, it had been exactly 23 minutes since they lifted off from the safety of the docks._

“If you’re such a nervous flier, why not vacation somewhere a little closer to home?” 

Dean shrugged. “Wasn’t my idea,” he yelled over the sound of the helicopter blades. “My friend Charlie had some sort of business meeting and decided to turn it into a whole trip.” Dean still remembers Charlie asking him to tag along with her. _Girls in bikinis!_ She had promised. _There’s going to be girls in bikinis!_

“So uh, Dean,” Castiel cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me prying, what’s so important you had to get off the island?” 

Dean made the mistake of looking up from the ground when Castiel started to speak and balled his sweaty hands into fists when he looked out the large window in front. “Family emergency,” Dean explained. Usually, he would leave it at that, but they weren’t even a quarter of the way done with the flight and some small talk might help to take his mind off of things. “My dad was in a car accident. My brother is with him now but… I have to go make sure he’s okay.”

Even though he couldn’t Castiel’s face, Dean could tell it had softened purely based on his tone. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is he alright?”

Dean shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “Sammy won’t tell me much. He says he’ll tell me all the details when I land. You know, he didn’t want to stress me out too much. Whatever the hell that means.”

“Sam is your brother?” Castiel assumed. 

Dean confirmed his assumption before he remembered his interaction with Gabriel earlier. “You have a brother, right? Gabriel?”

Dean almost expected Castiel to say that Gabriel was merely a close friend- it would make sense after all. The pair looked nothing alike. Gabriel with his shoulder-length dirty blonde hair and his laid-back attitude. Castiel probably stood half a foot taller than the guy. Along with that, their hair colors were complete opposites and they didn’t have any similar features (not that Dean had memorized every inch of Gabriel’s face, but what he could remember didn’t seem to match Castiel at all). 

“Yes, Gabriel is my brother. An annoying one at that, but my brother nonetheless,” Castiel said. “We were adopted,” He filled in when Dean didn’t respond to the first statement. “If you were wondering why we look different.”

Adopted. Of course. “Gabriel said you guys grew up here?” 

“Gabriel said we grew up in the middle of the Atlantic ocean? Unfortunately, I have to be the one to inform you that that isn’t true.”

It wasn’t even a joke- just a stupid comeback- but somehow it tugged a small laugh out from behind Dean’s lips. “I meant on Great Abaco,” Dean clarified. 

“I know what you meant,” Castiel retorted. “And yes, we did. I was born in America but my mom scooped us all up and moved us down to the Bahamas when she felt it was time for a fresh start. Best damn decision ever made, if you ask me.”

Instead of looking out the windows, Dean watched Castiel’s hand grip the large joystick jutting out from between his legs. He would adjust the position of it by barely a centimeter, his eyes locked onto the screens that decorated the control panel in front of him. 

“So Cas- can I call you Cas? Why did you become a pilot?” Dean asked. Castiel was getting to be quite the mouthful. 

“That nickname isn’t uncommon,” Cas said before answering Dean’s second question. “I don’t know why I became a pilot. It just seemed fun so… one day I went out and got my pilot’s license and now I do island tours and charters.”

Dean felt like he had run out of small talk topics, so he tried to busy himself on his phone again. Not that there was much you could do at 20,000 feet, but any distraction is good enough for him. At some point, Dean had completely tuned out the thudding of the blades keeping the helicopter aloft. He didn’t think it was possible, but without Castiel’s banter, the cabin felt quiet. Dean asked a few questions here and there, but for the most part, he kept his head buried. 

About halfway into their flight, Dean could hear Cas muttering into the headset, making comments about things Dean didn’t understand. 

“Everything alright, Captain?” Dean said, finally looking up from his phone screen. He glanced out the front window and the endless miles of blue sky had suddenly been taken over by a plume of dark clouds. 

“Yeah,” Cas reassured him. He looked into the backseat where Dean was sitting, the first time he had done so the entire trip, and offered him a smile before adjusting in his seat. Dean watched as his hand shifted on the control stick, Cas had informed him that it was actually called a cyclic, and the helicopter gently dipped to the side, making Dean reach out and grab onto the seat.

“Nothing to worry about. I just thought I had timed this right so we could avoid this storm,” Cas murmured. “We should be able to go around it and stay out of the real heavy parts, but I’d recommend putting your seatbelt on just in case things get a bit bumpy.”

Dean’s heart was going to explode out of his chest. He fumbled with the harness style seatbelt, eventually getting himself strapped in. The helicopter tilted away from the dark clouds that they were approaching and aimed more towards the grey sky area. 

“Dean?” Cas said softly into the microphone on his headset. “You have nothing to worry about. This is just the tail end of a storm- a minor inconvenience is all.”

“I’m fine,” Dean put on his million-dollar smile, hoping it would hide his shaking breath. 

They neared the clouds, Cas steering the helicopter just to the left of them, and Dean could feel the small gusts of winds that were pushing them around. Castiel’s shoulders had tightened and he had one hand on the collective lever by the side of his seat, the other wrapped tightly around the cyclic. He seemed stressed about something that was a “minor inconvenience”.

The rain came out of nowhere. A wall of water pounded on the outside of the helicopter, slamming against the thick metal so loudly that Dean wishes he had earplugs underneath his headset. He clutched to his seatbelt as Cas muttered a string of inaudible words that Dean probably wasn’t meant to hear. The rain was deafening, but it wasn’t the worst part. 

The worst part was the wind. Sudden bursts of high-speed winds were pushing them around, causing the helicopter to dip in every direction and then some. Dean’s knuckles were turning white and he kept his eyes shut, telling himself that Cas could handle it. Cas was a good pilot. Cas was the best pilot on the island. Cas would get him home. 

The lightning came next. He had his eyes closed when the first strike hit, only knowing something had happened due to the “Motherfucker,” Cas spat into the microphone. Dean peeled his eyes open in time to see a flash of lightning, shooting down from the rain clouds and disappearing into the fog below. 

The lightning was quickly followed by the thunder, which was somehow more deafening than the rain. Dean could feel the vibrations through the floor of the cabin, making his legs shake even more than they already were. He had one hand wrapped around his messenger bag, the other gripping the seatbelt tightly. He couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped from his lips when the helicopter dipped to the side, but he noticed it was just Cas steering them away from the middle of the storm.

Cas kept flicking his eyes between the grey world in front of them and the screen on his dashboard, occasionally raising his hand to flip a switch or press a button. At last, the world fell quiet. 

Dean opened his eyes and looked out the window, seeing nothing but grey clouds. The wall of rain was on the other side of the storm, blue and purple toned lightning crackling through the distant clouds. 

“See?” Cas said, sounding relieved. “Just a minor inconv-”

Dean’s stomach leaped into his throat as the helicopter dropped. It was quick and Dean thought that maybe, just maybe, they had hit an air pocket of some sort. That they could recover from whatever had just happened. The helicopter began to shake, sending an earthquake through Dean’s body as his hands searched for something more secure to hold onto. 

It wasn’t until they started spinning that Dean really had the urge to throw up. The storm was tossing their helicopter around like the ragdoll, sending them spinning in circles as they headed towards the ground. 

He was going to die. Dean Winchester was going to die in a fucking helicopter crash in the middle of the ocean. Then Sam would have to live with a dead dad and a dead brother. Cas was shouting something, maybe it was for Dean or maybe he was just shouting in general, but it didn’t matter. Dean couldn’t hear a thing over his own beating heart pounding in his ears. They continued to descend into the thick fog below, their visibility dropping to zero. 

“Give me something, give me something,” Castiel yelled, his hands flying between the different helicopter controls. Dean felt the aircraft soar upwards again and they peaked over the top of the fog. For just a moment, Dean could see clearly. Up ahead, there was a small landmass jutting out of the ocean. Cas must have spotted the island the same time that Dean did because suddenly Cas was fighting against the wind, doing his best to make them spin in the general direction of the landmass. They might not die, but they were certainly going to crash. That much was inevitable. Dean almost wishes it was still raining so he had some noise to distract himself with because now all he had was his own screaming thoughts and Castiel’s string of unintelligible commands and cuss words. 

The island began to grow bigger as they approached it quickly, the wind not letting up on them at all. Dean let out a yelp as they spun in the other direction and suddenly they were close enough to the island to see the individual trees that sprouted off of it. 

It was only then did Castiel finally yell, “Brace for impact!”

Dean didn’t know how exactly he should “brace for impact”, but he wasn’t exactly given much time to think. The helicopter clipped on something, whether it was the ground or the trees Dean didn’t know, but they were spinning even more so out of control than before. They were on their side when they finally hit the ground, skidding across the dirt and sand as Dean was jerked around in his seatbelt, the fabric digging into his shoulders. His head flung back into the seat, which he had thought was quite soft at one point but now felt like a ton of bricks. He could hear the metal warping as the helicopter was dragged across the ground by momentum, coming to stop only when they hit the edge of the jungle. 

Dean sat still for a moment, partially hanging on his side as he tried to calm himself down. The ceiling and wall around him were completely caved in and dented, the windows shattered to the point where there wasn’t any glass left attached. 

But he was alive. He was alive and- _holy shit something is on fire._

“Cas?!” Dean yelled out and he struggled to undo his seatbelt. They had to get out of there.

Dean eyed the smoke that was surrounding the outside of the aircraft, the grey plume already reminding him of the storm that was lurking overhead. 

“‘m fine,” Cas grumbled, barely loud enough for Dean to hear. His head was hanging low, with his chin digging into his chest. 

Dean freed himself from his seatbelt, falling onto the overturned wall of the helicopter with a _thud._ He scooped up his bag, which was somehow still intact, and tossed it out through the window above him. He removed his shirt and placed it over the broken glass before pulling himself up through the hole and finally getting outside of the helicopter. 

“Castiel?” Dean yelled as he shook the glass of his shirt before putting it back on. 

Cas came staggered around the front of the helicopter, his headset still on and his coat clutched in one of his hands while the other was pressed against the side of his head. Dean rushed over and grabbed by the arm, yanking himself and the pilot away from the crash just as he watched the wreckage burst into flames. 

There was a deafening sound and soon red and orange flames consumed the helicopter, sending thick clouds of black smoke into the dark sky above them. They turned tail and left, backing away from the helicopter as far as they could before another section of it decided to blow up.

Dean’s eyes followed the smoke as it disappeared above them. “This is good, right? It’s like a smoke signal- they’ll be able to find us now, right?” 

Cas nodded and swayed on his feet. “It’s good,” his words were dry, “But it would be better… if the first aid kit wasn’t in there.”

Cas pulled his hand away, now sticky with red, to reveal a large crack on the side of his temple. Thick blood oozed down the side of his face and Cas’s head bobbed up and down. His mouth hung open and his eyes fluttered. Before Dean could even get out an “Oh shit”, Cas’s knees buckled and his body collapsed into the sand.


	3. Better Left Unsaid

“Cas?” Dean’s hands hovered over the pilot’s body. “Captain Novak?!” He gripped onto one of his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. 

Despite how hard he tried to ignore it, his eyes kept flicking towards the blood dripping into the pale sand. It wasn’t pretty, the flesh all cut away and split- dark red liquid sliding down the side of his face. Dean didn’t have to check for a pulse to know that Cas was still alive, he could see his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. 

“C’mon, Captain,” Dean was terrified. What if Castiel didn’t make it and left Dean all alone? What if he was going to be stuck on this island, by himself, until he starved to death? What if-

Cas let out a low grown, his eyes fluttering open and squinting against the bright sun above them. He struggled to sit up and tried to wipe the blood from the side of his face, looking between his blood-smeared hand and Dean’s worried face.

“You good?” Dean asked, his hand hovering near Cas’s arm. He knew that Cas wasn’t good, but he didn’t know what else to say. 

“Fine,” Cas breathed out. His gaze paused over Dean’s face and he reached out to touch the side of his face with his fingertip. He held up the bloodied finger so that Dean could see. “The glass must have cut you up a little. Are you alright?”

Dean almost smiled. “Just a bit sore. I’ll pro’lly develop some nasty bruises, though.” Dean looked back at Cas’s head wound. “We’re going to need to patch you up before we do anything.”

Cas nodded in agreement. 

The pair staggered to their feet, sand sticking to the tacky blood on their hands. Castiel insisted that he could walk, that he really wasn’t that injured, but Dean could see as he took uneven steps that he was lying. He was swaying so much it looked as if he had just gotten off a boat, not a helicopter. 

Dean took a glance up at the sky; they were shrouded in dark clouds, but there was no rain. It was sure to catch up to them eventually, though. 

They found a little dirt patch right at the edge of the jungle. They were surrounded by thick trees with deep green leaves, splaying out in all directions. It was quite beautiful in a way. Not a single human had touched those leaves- no one had planted the trees or conditioned them to grow a certain way. They were just existing. They settled down on the ground and Dean was already enjoying the relief the shade brought. 

“What even happened out there?” Dean asked as he began to dig through his bag in search of something to help protect Cas’s wound. 

“I think it was a microburst,” Cas grunted. He pushed himself up against the trunk of a tree and let out a sigh. “They’re impossible to predict. You can’t figure what’s going until it’s too late.”

“A microburst?” Dean questioned, pulling an old tshirt out of his bag and scrunching it up in his hands. 

Cas nodded. “You know when you turn the sink on and all the water comes shooting out of the faucet? And then it hits the bottom of the sink and the water splashes out because it has nowhere else to go?” 

Dean saw a large plant with folded leaves, the leaves acting as cups that held the recent rainwater. It must have rained here recently, too. He dipped the end of his shirt into the water before envisioning Cas’s scenario in his head. He could picture it- the water shooting out from the faucet tap and bouncing off the plates stacked in the sink. It made him think of home. 

“It’s like that,” Cas said. Dean approached him and began to wipe the dried blood off the side of his face, trying to avoid accidentally putting Cas in even more pain. “Except instead of water, it’s high-speed winds.” 

“So this microburst,” Dean let Castiel take the shirt from him and hold it to the side of his head. That should stop the bleeding. “Is strong enough to knock a helicopter into the ocean?”

“Many commercial jumbo jets have crashed as a result of microbursts. We’re just lucky there was an island out here.”

Cas was right about that. The chances of crashing into an island instead of nose diving into the Atlantic must be very slim. It was a fairly big island, at least from where Dean was sitting, so surely it couldn’t be some random unchartered gem.

“Where are we?” Dean looked around their little clearing as if he was expecting there to be a big flashy welcome sign for stranded tourists. 

Cas only shrugged. “Not a clue. There are tons of island chains out in this area, many of them are just too small to be bothered with. I’m sure this is one of many islands in this region of the ocean.”

Dean tipped out his bag and watched the contents spill onto the ground. He didn’t have much with him. His bathing suit, a cheap souvenir, some personal items, an old granola bar and- Dean scoffed as he scooped up the square Zippo lighter. He held it up so Cas could see, flicking the top open and producing a small flame. 

“At least we’ve got this,” Dean said as he stuffed his things back into his bag. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbled. He had pulled the shirt away from the side of his head and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess. I should have known that this wouldn’t end well- you aren’t supposed to go flying during storms for a reason.”

Castiel was being sincere, completely blaming the crash on himself. Dean could practically hear his internal monologue, _I shouldn’t have gone out in this, If I was a better pilot we wouldn’t have crashed._ His face wasn’t all that hard to read. 

“Well, wait a minute Cas,” Dean said, haltingly. “You said those microburst things are impossible to detect so… don’t blame yourself for not being able to do the impossible.”

Cas was appreciative of Dean’s reassurance, or at least he appeared to be based on the small smile that was formed despite the effort made to keep his lips pressed firmly together.

“I’m sorry for getting blood all over your Led Zeppelin shirt,” Cas held up the grey shirt Dean had given to him, which now had a large dark in the middle of it. Dean brushed it off, told Cas it didn’t matter because well, it didn’t matter at all. What mattered is that Dean isn’t stuck on an island with a corpse keeping him company instead of a living, breathing person. 

Cas’s head kept gently lolling to the side and Dean knew that the blow he took to his head had left him in pretty bad shape. 

“The rain is going to catch up to us eventually,” Dean said, standing to his feet. “I’m going to go see if I can find a cave or something we can use as a shelter just in case,” Dean could already see Cas trying to get up. 

“I’ll come with you,” Cas pleaded.

Dean shook his head. “You need to take it easy- I won’t be too long. Try not to die while I’m away, yeah?”

Did Dean feel good about leaving Castiel alone while he went off to look for a way to survive? No, not at all. But Dean couldn’t just sit there while Cas struggled with his concussion, so he figured it would be better for the both of them. Dean figured it wouldn’t be too bad if Cas got some sleep, anyway. He could hold a conversation alright and didn’t seem too out of it-except for the staggered walking. 

Taking another glance back at Cas, Dean waved goodbye and began to walk into the jungle. It was hard to navigate and Dean was constantly getting the toe of his shoe caught between roots. He could see that the island sloped upward and even formed a bit of a mountain on the opposite side from where they had set up camp. Dean figured that it was best to head in that direction in search of shelter. 

The trees were providing Dean with a nice shade, protecting him from the harsh sun. Water occasionally dripped down from the canopies, sending a cool chill down his spine every time it did so. He was already thinking about his shower back home in Kansas. Thinking about his little house with a park just across the street. Thinking about waking up for his mundane job at the auto shop and then coming home with grease all over his hands. Thinking about a nice beer to accompany whatever cable TV had to offer that night. 

He was thinking about Sammy- not only having to deal with their father but now Dean too. Poor kid must think he’s all alone in the world. He was thinking about Charlie as well, who was probably running frantic back at the resort. She would probably skip her business meeting and instead be on a search and rescue chopper. Or maybe she wouldn’t be. Did she even know? Or did everyone still think Dean was en route to America?

Dean walked through the forest, twigs and leaves getting snagged on his jeans as he did his best to avoid tripping over any more plants. As he walked, his foot kicked a spherical object and sent it rolling across the jungle floor. It was green and just bigger than the size of his hand. He scooped it up and twirled it around before coming to the realization that it was a coconut. Dean had seen _Castaway_ , he knew what coconuts looked like. He placed the coconut into his bag.

He collected a whole bunch of coconuts by the time he came across the cliff face. It rocketed upwards, looming high over Dean. He could see where it turned from a mountain into a hill but realized that he should be heading back soon. He wasn’t cut out to climb a mountain today. Instead, he walked along the side of the rocky mountain, letting his hand scrape over the dark rock. It felt good under his fingertips- the rough texture reminded him that he was alive. That he had survived the crash. 

He hadn’t gone very far when he found a small hole in the hillside. It was just wide enough for a person to get through, but when Dean peaked his head in he could see it opened into a large cave. He could hear water trickling down the rocks inside the cave and he realized that it would be the perfect spot to take shelter from the rain. It would be a tight fit for both of them, but it would have to do. 

Satisfied with his findings, Dean began to march back in the direction of their camp. “Camp” was a rather generous word in this situation. It wasn’t even a camp- it was just the area where Cas was. So he wasn’t heading back to camp, he was heading back to Cas. 

His messenger bag bounced heavily against his leg now that it was weighed down with coconuts. He wasn’t even sure if they were going to be able to break them open, but it was worth a shot. Dean had picked up a rather sharp looking rock somewhere along the way and he hoped they could use that to help them with the whole coconut situation. 

When Dean arrived back at their camp he would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved that Castiel was still there.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greeted, taking a seat in the dirt near him. “Look what I found!” 

Dean proudly opened his bag to reveal the few coconuts he had picked up on his walk. He held one up and passed it to Castiel, letting him examine the large fruit. 

“We can go all _Castaway_ and break them open,” Dean said, holding up the sharp rock he had found. “Maybe we can write “help” in the sand too.”

Cas passes the coconut back to Dean and tilts his head. “That’s not a half-bad idea, actually. SOS would be easier to write, but yeah. We should go do that.”

Despite Dean telling him that he needed to take it easy, Castiel yanked himself to his feet with the help of the tree trunk he had been sitting against. Cas kept saying that he was fine, that he hadn’t actually hit his head that hard. Dean realized it would be easier to work with Cas instead of fighting against him 

They walked across the beach, their feet sinking in the soft sand. They picked a spot that wasn’t too close to the shoreline- they couldn’t risk their cry for help being washed away, now could they? They wrote in the sand, making thick lines that were hopefully visible to anyone who might pass overtop of them. Dean noticed how long it took Cas to write out the last S, but he wasn’t going to comment on the uneven lines or the shakiness of it. 

They didn’t talk much, which Dean was okay with. Cas seemed like a nice guy and all but Dean wasn’t exactly up for sharing his life story with a stranger. Was Cas even a stranger anymore? They had survived a helicopter crash together- surely that must account for something.

Night soon fell and the sound of far off thunder echoed over the swirling seas. In preparation for the rain, Cas and Dean collected what little belongings they had and headed inland. They planned on returning when the storm passed, that way they could be near the beach in case someone came looking for them. 

There was a small voice in the back of Dean’s head that kept telling him no one was out looking for him. That Sam thought Dean wasn’t answering his phone because he was blowing his family off, not because there wasn’t any reception in the middle of the ocean. Maybe Charlie hadn’t even realized he was missing and she was sitting alone at the hotel bar, sipping alcohol while reading over her notes. Maybe, just maybe, they really were alone. 

The cave fit the two of them nicely, each of them pressed up against an opposite wall so that their feet were just centimeters away from one another. Dean dug out the granola bar from the bottom of his bag, splitting it in half and passing it over to Castiel. 

The taste of food on his tongue somehow made him even hungrier. Dean knew that food and water were going to become an issue very quickly, and he knew Cas knew it too, but for now, he chose not to mention it. Some things just were just better left unsaid. Just like how Dean wasn’t going to mention how Cas kept zoning out or how his head kept tilting to the side. He wasn’t going to mention how Cas kept whispering things to himself, things that didn’t make sense. Castiel wasn’t okay, to put it lightly. He should be in a hospital somewhere. 

But they were stuck. They were stuck all alone on an island in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, chewing on an old granola bar and leaving the most important things unsaid.

The rain started outside. It wasn’t heavy, just steady. Dean knew that they were going to have to rewrite their SOS in the sand the next morning, but he wouldn’t mind. Writing SOS in the sand meant they had hope. It meant they still believed someone was coming for them. That there was a chance they could be saved. 

Dean had fucked up in his life before. Too many times to count, actually. He had gotten into screaming matches with his family and said shit he regretted. The trail of exes he left behind would probably argue that he didn’t deserve to be saved, that he could rot on that island for all eternity. Maybe even his family would agree. 

But Cas? Dean hadn’t even known Castiel for a day but he knew that he deserved to be saved. Dean could just tell, he didn’t need proof, that Cas was a good person. That he cared. That he had decided to fly out in this storm because he wanted to help, he wanted to make someone’s day better. There was no way in hell those bright blue eyes could hurt someone, not even if he tried. 

Or maybe he could. Maybe Castiel was reckless and he knew the risks of going out in the storm but decided to fly anyway. Maybe he was an awful person who stole from tourists and exchanged helicopter tours for other kinds of goods. 

But at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. As the rain fell outside, bouncing off of the trees and burrowing in the dirt, nothing mattered. They were on the same playing field. Both Dean and Cas were shoved inside a cave on an island in the middle of nowhere, neither sure if anyone was looking for them, without any clue on how to survive. 

They locked eyes from their respective sides of the cave and didn’t say a word. Dean smiled, not because he felt like he needed to exchange something, but because he felt it creep up his face and onto his lips and he couldn’t stop it. Because whoever Castiel may be, dirty helicopter pilot or not, he was stuck on this island too. 

Castiel smiled back, tilting his head when he looked at Dean. It wasn’t the same head tilt that he had done after he hit his head. It was as if he was studying Dean, really trying to silently ask him questions and somehow expecting an answer. 

The rain outside was soon accompanied by thunder and Dean suddenly felt very tired. The kind of tired you get after driving across the country all night and you finally crash in a little motel in the middle of nowhere. He adjusted himself on the floor of the cave, tucking his bag under his head as a makeshift pillow. It wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was something. Cas followed shortly after, folding his coat around the bloody Zepp shirt and placing it into the cool dirt. 

Dean stared at the ceiling and could feel Cas’s eyes on him, but he didn’t say anything. Some things were just better left unsaid.


	4. Waiting For You

Sunlight peeked in through the cave entrance and for a moment, just a moment, Dean forgot where he was. That maybe the crash had been a bad dream and he had just fallen asleep after one too many drinks at the hotel bar. He had never been more upset about being wrong in his life. 

He sat up, cracking his neck and his fingers and just about every part of his body that moved. Cas was still asleep, lying on his side with his arms wrapped around the makeshift pillow that was propping up his head. 

Dean sighed and dragged his hands down the side of his face, suddenly longing to be asleep so he could be oblivious to all that was happening around him. He crawled forward and stuck his head out of the cave. The rain had stopped and there was nothing to show for it except some wet plants- the sun was fully out this morning, not a cloud in the sky. 

He pulled himself out of the cave and began to twist around, cracking his back and any joint that followed after. Dean stretched his hands far above his head and soon heard an unintelligible grumble from behind him. He turned around to see Cas lingering by the cave entrance, his hair a wreck and his eyes squinting so much they might as well be closed.

“Mornin’ sunshine!” Dean greeted in an overly enthusiastic tone. It felt nice to start the day off with some optimism- he was sure it wasn’t going to end like that. 

Cas smiled briefly and bid Dean a good morning, which was cut off by a long yawn. The cut on the side of his head looked okay, at least from where Dean was standing. He couldn’t see any sign of infection, not yet, at least. 

“How you feeling?” Dean asked. Cas soon joined him in the sunshine, clutching onto his jacket. 

“Besides the hole in the side of my head?” Cas ran a hand through his matted hair. “Splendid.”

They mutually decided that it would be best if they headed back to the beach. Despite the shelter and protection the cave and trees provided them, Dean was growing ansty being hidden away so well. He needed to be able to see the sky. Needed to be able to signal a plane. Needed to get out of here. 

They worked their way through the jungle, Cas making comments about strange plants he thought he recognized from back home or out of a book. The guy was smart, Dean would give him that. He was much smarter than Dean, not that the bar was very high in the first place. Dean, unlike Cas, wasn’t exactly stopping to smell the roses. He was making a beeline for the helicopter wreckage and Cas was stalling behind him, picking at things on the trees. He was definitely out of it. 

Dean pointed out that the helicopter had stopped smoking and that there was no sign of any more flames, so he wanted to go over and investigate. 

“Dean,” Cas said as he followed closely behind Dean, “It’s useless. Everything in there is going to be all burned up.”

“Can’t hurt to look, though,” Dean approached the charred hunk of metal that lay across the sand. It was like a dead animal; once so strong and mighty only be shot down by the hunters of the world. 

“It could still blow up,” Cas warned. 

Dean shrugged at this. If somehow after hours upon hours of rain, the helicopter wreckage was still flammable, then by all means, let it explode. Dean would think that was rather impressive. He climbed in through the front of the helicopter, carefully avoiding the shattered glass around the edges. 

Cas made a comment about Dean’s recklessness, then sauntered on down the beach. He didn’t say where he was going, but Dean assumed he was going to retrace their SOS in the sand. It hadn’t been completely washed away by the rain, but Dean silently agreed that it needed to be more visible.

Dean crouched down in what was left of the cockpit. The inside was almost completely blackened from the fire and smoke. The metal was all warped and peeling, revealing nothing but fried wires and support beams in the walls. Out of sheer curiosity, Dean pressed the buttons on the dashboard. He wasn’t expecting the aircraft to roar to life, but it would have been nice to at least have _something_ work. 

“I guess any sort of tracking system is out of the question,” He said, tapping the cracked screen with the back of his knuckle. 

He reached under the pilots seat and pulled out a mess of melted plastic, all curled up and ashy. He could make out the red cross on the front and tried to pop the box open, hoping that he could salvage something from inside. The box may have well been empty because all of the bandages and helpful items had been completely burnt to a crisp. Just as expected. Dean tossed the box to the ground in frustration. 

“I presume that means you’ve found nothing?” Cas commented after the box clattered on the floor. 

Dean stood up straight, careful not to hit his head on the caved in door of the helicopter. “Nothing,” he echoed back. “We could make a raft and sail off this island, you know, like they did in _Castaway_. Although he had a sail, so I guess that's out of the question. We can’t repair the wreckage, I mean hell, there's nothing left to repair,” He scratched the side of his head. “Maybe we’ll just turn into the Swiss Family Robinson,” Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that. 

He turned to see Cas standing outside the wreckage, staring off in the direction of the sea. 

“Cas?” Dean said, “Are you listening?” 

It was like Castiel couldn’t hear him. When he finally turned to face Dean, his eyes were completely glossed over and he had a dopey smile on his lips. 

“Yeah, I’m listening,” He said, nodding his head slightly. “Although I would rather find a way off the island than live here in a tree house.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that. 

Dean was determined to find something useful among the helicopter wreckage despite the fact that deep down he knew there was nothing salvageable. He crawled over the pilot chairs and into the back row, where he had been sitting when they crash landed. There was a large split down the center of the chopper and Dean stepped over it, trying to avoid getting electrocuted by any of the potentially live wires jutting out from the floor. 

He gave a quick once over of the back row before slipping out the hole where the door had been blown off. 

“So that was a bust,” Dean said, disappointed that he had no findings to report back to Cas. 

“Yeah, seems so,” The length between Dean’s statement and Cas’ response was notably too long. 

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” 

Castiel nodded, clearly frustrated with Dean’s constant nagging. They worked their way back up the beach, settling down into their little dirt clearing again. At this point Dean could feel the hunger begin to grow in the pits of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten a full meal since before he boarded the helicopter. 

It would take days for them to die of starvation, but it would be slow and agonizing. There was no point in sitting around while their hunger tried to bite them in the ass. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked. “You look like you’re thinking about doing something dumb.”

Dean nodded in approval. “I think I’m going to go try and catch a fish.”

Cas almost started laughing but it came out like a repressed snort instead. He eventually settled down, but when Dean hadn’t made any follow up statements Cas must have realized he was being serious. 

“With what, exactly? Your bare hands?”

Dean hadn’t actually thought about that. It wasn’t like he had a fishing rod on standby. “I’ll whittle a spear,” he said proudly. 

Dean could tell that Cas was holding back another laugh. “Okay, you do that. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can get those coconuts opened.”

So that’s exactly what they did. Dean passed his bag over to Cas, who removed all the coconuts and the rock Dean claimed would break them open. He began to hack at them, the sound making Dean think about a knife on a wooden cutting board. 

He enjoyed cooking. Most people wouldn’t expect that from him, so it was always a pleasant surprise when Dean would whip up a pie or produce perfect burgers on the grill. He didn’t really know where he got the talent; his dad never cooked, Uncle Bobby never cooked. Maybe his mom cooked- Dean would like to believe that she cooked. He wouldn’t know, though, because she died before he was old enough to learn about anything in the kitchen. 

Dean found himself a lengthy stick that he deemed appropriate for a spear. He and Cas were in their own little worlds, not exchanging a single glance (at least not at the same time). As Dean picked at the end of his spear with a rock, he would occasionally sneak glances at Cas working his way around the outside of a coconut. 

Dean eventually slipped off his shoes and made his way down to the water, rolling up his pants and clutching his crafted spear in his hand. He didn’t actually know if there would be any fish big enough to eat this close to the shore, but could you really complete the deserted island experience without trying to fish at least once? 

He was sure he looked like an idiot tossing his spear around the water, chasing after darting fish. They moved so quickly and he moved so slowly; it was going to be impossible to catch anything. 

Just a bit further out there was a series of rocks sticking up out of water, as if they were clawing their way up from the sandy depths in need of sunlight. Dean knew there would be bigger fish and crabs around that area, but before he could advance towards them he heard the quiet movement of the water behind him. 

“I managed to get the coconuts open,” Cas said, standing next to Dean. He had rolled up his pants as well as stripped himself of his suit jacket and tie. He was left in nothing but his black pants and white shirt, which seemed almost translucent in the bright sun. 

Dean would be lying if he said Castiel wasn’t attractive. He was tall and fit, had light stubble along the bottom of his face, and blue eyes that surely made all the girls go crazy. 

“So, Cas,” Dean cleared his throat. “You got anyone waiting for you back home?”

Cas tilted his head, his black hair reflecting the sunlight, “You mean like a significant other? No, no I do not. You?”

Dean shook his head and Cas scoffed. 

“What, that hard to believe?” Dean inquired. 

“You just seem like the type of person a lot of people would be into, that’s all,” Cas told him, not quite looking at him but looking past him instead, “You just have that general vibe.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to laugh. “General vibe? The hell does that mean?” 

Castiel didn’t respond. 

They hiked back up the beach and Castiel proudly showed Dean how he cracked the coconuts open. They drank what little they could from them, the taste was bland and bitter but it still felt nice as it slid down Dean’s throat. The actual “meat” itself was no better, but it was something. Dean had never really been a fan of coconut, but you’ll eat just about anything if you were hungry enough.

He remembers being hungry. His dad was always on the road, always shuffling him and Sammy around from time to time. Sometimes they’d run out of money, sometimes they’d be eating stale cereal for days. But at the end of the day it was the closest to home he had gotten. They both grew up, got jobs, and moved on with their lives. His childhood didn’t define him. 

“We’re really stuck here, aren’t we?” Dean eventually said, not being able to tear his mind away from the thought of being back home. 

Cas nodded. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean focused on the coconut in his hands instead of responding. 

“I said I would get you back home and anyone will tell you that I’m a man of my word.”


	5. Not What I Meant

It was no secret that sleeping on the hard ground wasn’t good for your back. Dean wanted to stay asleep as long as he could because if he was asleep he could still pretend that he was at home. He could pretend that when he opened his eyes he wouldn’t see the treetop canopies and he wouldn’t see a rugged pilot asleep about 20 feet away from him. 

When Dean did finally decide to crack open his eyelids, the fantasies of being back home quickly washing away, the first thing he noticed wasn’t the trees or the bright sun. It was the hunger. It had begun to eat at his insides, creeping up his body to the point where it was going to give him a headache. He knew they couldn’t make it the rest of the day just on coconut meat. They would have to figure out how to catch something, be it fish or crab or hell- Dean would even eat a frog at this point. 

He rolled to his side and then cocked his head when he noticed something else: Castiel was gone. 

He should have been lying just on the other side of the clearing, his back towards Dean and the ocean. He should have had his arms tucked under his head, accompanied by his jacket and the bloody shirt he never gave back. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. His jacket was there, but he wasn’t. 

Dean sat up, quickly looking around the area in case Cas had just gotten up to stretch his legs or something, but he wasn’t anywhere that Dean could see. Dean jumped to his feet, his heart rate beginning to accelerate. 

“Cas?” Dean called out, hoping to hear something in return. They had mutually agreed that if one of them had to take a leak that they had to do so within shouting distance in case something happened. If Cas was within shouting distance, then why wasn’t he responding?

“Cas?!” Dean tried again. He ran down to the beach, scanning up and down in hopes to see Cas standing out in the water or digging around the helicopter wreckage. He wasn’t. He wasn’t standing in the sun collecting shells, he wasn’t out by the rocks trying to catch crabs, he wasn’t anywhere. 

Dean could hear his blood pumping through his ears, now. What if Cas got attacked by some wild animal in the middle of the night? What if he got swept away in a rip current? What if wandered off and fell unconscious? What if a rescue plane had come and Dean wouldn’t wake up and they left him behind? 

“Castiel?!” Dean screamed, running through their little base camp and into the thick jungle beyond it. 

The island was huge, at least when you were trying to find someone. Dean didn’t even know where to start looking for Cas- if he was even still here. Even if Dean did have some sort of tracking skill, he was too frantic to admire broken twigs and crumpled leaves. Dean repeated Cas’s name one too many times, yelling it just about every five steps he took. 

He pushed his way through the thick leaves of the low lying plants and just knew that his arms were going to get scraped up from the vines and thorns he got snagged on. He almost tripped more than once, even hit the ground a few times, but the only thing he could do was keep looking. 

“Captain Novak!” Dean screamed, his voice cracking and begging for water. He had tried just about every variation of the name Castiel that he could think of, although he was rather unsure why he had done this. 

The trees seemed to part a little and since he was growing exhausted of hacking through vines, he moved in the direction of the clearing. Dean spun around, suddenly realizing just how alone he really was. He was deep in the jungle and was probably fairly close to the middle of the island. He screamed out, again and again, just waiting for a response. Every time he opened his mouth he was reminded of how raw his voice was, of how chapped his lips were. He screamed himself hoarse before his voice finally gave up on him- before he finally accepted defeat.

“C’mon, Cas,” He begged. “Where the hell are you?” 

Without any sort of warning there was suddenly a body crashing down on top of him, knocking Dean down into the dirt. When he looked up he realized it was Cas, or at least a clearly sleep-deprived version of him. He was mumbling quickly, stringing together words at a rate much quicker than what Dean was capable of comprehending. 

“Woah, Cas, pump the brakes!” Dean exclaimed. Cas was on top of him but it seemed like he didn’t even realize Dean was underneath him, lying on dirt from the collision he had just caused. “Are you alright?” 

Castiel finally looked down at Dean, his eyes wide and filled with panic. It took him a second but once he registered that Dean was there, his face went soft. 

“Dean?” Cas scrambled off of him, backing away into the dirt, allowing Dean to finally sit up. 

“Hey man, what the hell are you doing out here?” Dean cocked an eyebrow and loosely gestured to their exotic surroundings. 

If Dean didn’t know any better, it would seem that this was the first time Castiel had noticed that they were encased by thick trees. 

“I… I was…but you were...” Cas stuttered, his head flicking from side to side as he looked between Dean and plants around them. “Are you okay?”

Dean scoffed. “Am I okay? Of course, I am, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Cas looked at Dean the same way Dean’s father looked at him when he knew he was lying. It was unsettling as if he could see right through him. 

“I guess… nevermind,” Cas shook his head and got to his feet, his eyes still looking off into the distance. 

“Is everything alright?” 

It was clear that Cas had been running around for quite a bit. His body heaved with heavy breaths and there was sweat dripping from the sides of his face. Despite the fact that he seemingly had been running for his life, he nodded.

Dean slowly got off the ground, skeptical of Castiel’s response. 

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Dean spoke slow, dissecting each word and letting it hang in the air. 

“Dean, everything is fine,” Castiel responded. He immediately began walking back in the direction of their camp, leaving Dean to chase after him.

“If everything is fine then why were you running around in the middle of the jungle? I thought we agreed to stay within shouting distance,” Dean said sternly. 

Cas shrugged. “Thought I heard something.”

Cas was walking quickly, staying at least 10 feet in front of Dean no matter how hard he tried to catch up. Dean kept pushing, kept asking what he was doing, what he was running from, and every time Cas had the same response. He kept saying it was nothing. That he heard something. That he just wanted to explore. It was clear he was getting irritated, but if Cas was going to be wandering off in the middle of the night Dean wanted to know why. 

They pushed through the final line of trees and appeared back at their base camp. 

“Cas, wait,” Dean instructed when Cas continued down towards the beach. “What the hell is going on with you, man?”

Cas let out a deep breath and slowly turned around the face Dean. “I told you- nothing. Nothing’s going on.”

Dean couldn’t help but scoff. “Clearly something is going on! You’ve been acting real weird.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Damnit, Cas! Listen to yourself!” Dean snapped, “You keep staring into space, not listening to me. You just wandered off and now you refuse to tell me why! We are stuck here together and as unfortunate as that may be, it would be a lot easier if we just acted like a team.”

“You’re right, Dean. We are stuck here,” He spat, “That’s probably why I’ve been acting weird! I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m terrified for my life! I want to go home!”

Dean sighed. “You hit your head in the crash. You probably just have a really nasty concussion and that’s fine, but you need to say that you aren’t up to par! It’s not going to do either of us any good if you keep acting like there’s nothing wrong!”

“There is nothing wrong with me!” Castiel snarled. 

The island fell quiet. Dean could have sworn the birds stopped screeching and insects stopped chirping; it was like when a teacher starts to yell at a student and the whole class goes silent. It was unsettling. Dean knew that if he kept pushing he was bound to get a reaction, but was it really so hard for Cas to admit that he wasn’t quite right at the moment? They survived a helicopter crash, for fucks sake. Usually, people walk away with a little more than a banged-up head- if they even got to walk away. 

Dean could see the fire inside Cas die down as the silence got longer, but neither of them said anything. Dean hadn’t meant to say there was something wrong with Cas, not like that. He hadn’t meant it like that. 

Not that Dean was big on apologies, but before he could even get one out Cas was spinning around and marching down to the beach. Dean rolled his eyes at first, internally calling Cas immature, but as he walked away Dean felt a twang of regret. 

People aren’t meant to be forced into isolation like this. Sure, there are mountaineers who lock themselves away in their cabin for weeks at a time or hikers who take solo hikes through the backcountry, but they all chose to do that. They could call home or leave any time they wanted. But Dean and Cas? They were stuck there. They couldn’t just call home. They couldn’t just catch a plane back. They were stuck. They were stuck together. 

Dean had said it himself; they would be better off if they just acted as a team. But he chose to ignore his own advice and carry on with his day, ignoring Cas to the best of his ability. 

It wasn’t like there was an abundance of activities to do on the island, but Dean managed to entertain himself for the majority of the day. He cracked open some more coconuts, carved his initials into a nearby tree truck like he was some disrespectful tourist, and even took a walk through their jungle backyard. 

It was hard to hold a grudge when the person you were holding a grudge against was the only other person on the island, but somehow both Dean and Cas managed to do so. Every time they would get within 10 feet of each other, one of them would dramatically storm away. 

Dean tried to talk to Cas more than once, but every time he opened his mouth he couldn’t think of anything to say. Maybe start with “I’m sorry”? He thought. But what the hell was he apologizing for? For accusing Cas of being concussed? Surely that didn’t warrant an apology. 

When Dean wasn’t actively trying to avoid Castiel, he was trying to distract himself from the hunger he felt. Not just hunger for food, but the hunger for just about everything. He had tried to accept his situation multiple times by now, but no matter how many times he tried to put on a brave face his insides would always be desperate to return home. 

It wasn’t until the breeze picked up and the watch on Dean’s wrist told him night was just around the corner did he finally talk to Cas again. As he came roaming into camp, his shoulder clipped with the pilot’s and Dean realized he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He spun around on his heels to see that Cas had frozen in place. 

“There isn’t anything to talk about, Dean.”

So that’s how it was going to be, huh? They were just going to carry on and never speak to each other again?

“You know that ain’t true,” Dean hissed. 

Cas turned his head over his shoulder, maybe planning on saying something to Dean, before he began to walk away again. 

“Castiel!” Dean shouted, making Cas stop dead. “I’m over this- okay? Let’s not talk about it then. But we need to figure a way to get off this damn island!”

“What, because we work better as a team?” Cas snarled, suddenly standing very close to Dean.

“Strength in numbers,” Dean was trying to be casual, “This is the third day we’ve been on this damn island and no one has found us yet; who knows if they ever will. We are stuck here and I don’t know about you, but I would actually like to try and get back to see my dying father!” 

Cas sighed. “Of course I want to go home, Dean.”

“Well then let’s find a way off this island!” 

“I will find a way,” Cas muttured, “I’m the damn pilot. I’ll find us a way off this island. I said I would get you home and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Well, you’re a shit pilot!” Dean snapped. He didn’t mean to say it, nor did the words hold any truth, but Dean was frustrated. When he got frustrated, his filter slipped. 

Cas barely raised an eyebrow at this. He tilted his head, almost encouraging Dean to go on. To tell him more. 

“You should never gone flying in that stupid fucking storm!” 

“Well, Dean, tell us how you really feel.” Cas’s voice was laced with sarcasm. 

It was that line that just sent Dean right over the edge. “You want me to tell you how I really feel, do you?” Dean’s voice started low, “I think you should have told me that flying in this weather was impossible. I think you should have taken the extra time to go around the storm. I think you should have just turned back when the rain got too havey to fucking see through!” 

“You can blame this on me if you want, Dean, but don’t forget that you were the one who was desperate enough to hire me! You were desperate enough to fucking drop almost one grand just to get back home instead of waiting out the storm like a normal fucking person would! If you hadn’t hired me in the first place then neither of us would be stuck here!” Cas was shouting, his voice resonating through the chilled island air. 

Dean threw his hands up in frustration. “You can blame this crash on me but you can’t blame your fucking concussion on me! I’m not the one who hit their head and can’t even fucking think straight!”

“I’m fine,” Cas snarled. 

Dean ran both hands through his hair, almost having to resist the urge to yank it all out. “You aren’t! You’re not fine! Why can’t you just admit that?” Dean asked, desperately. “You’re going to get yourself, or even the both of us, killed if you keep wandering off like that!” 

Cas was on him faster than Dean could even register what was happening. Cas had him pinned up against the nearest tree, his shirt wrapped up tightly between Cas’ fists. 

Cas leaned in closer and Dean could feel Cas’s heated breath spread over his face. “The only thing that’s going to get us killed is your recklessness and pessimistic attitude, so why don’t you just shut your fucking mouth?”

Dean didn’t mean to, he swear he didn’t, but the words came tumbling out all on their own. 

“Why don’t you just make me?” Dean’s voice went low and gravelly, much different than what it had been before. 

There was barely a second between the end of Dean’s sentence and the feeling of Cas’s lips pressed against his own. Dean froze at first, suddenly realizing what he had said, before he did the unbelievable; he kissed back. 

Cas pressed into Dean, hot breath leaking from the inside of his mouth. It wasn’t like any kiss Dean had experienced before, this time it was angry. It was so, so angry and he could practically feel the red, hot emotion in every move Cas’s mouth made. Dean was supposed to be pissed at this guy; why did the kiss feel so good? He didn’t want to pull away, in fact, he dragged it out as long as possible. He tugged at the bottom of Cas’s lip and it was only after a low groan escaped the back of Dean’s throat did he finally will himself to pull away. 

He shoved Cas off, pushing him much harder than intended, and locked eyes with him. Those cold blue eyes, suddenly gone all warm from the fire burning deep within them. Dean wiped at the bottom of his lip with the edge of his thumb, wanting to pretend to be angry but instead just being careful not to wipe away the feeling Cas left behind. 

Dean swallowed and quickly realized how dry his mouth had gone before he tore his eyes away from Cas and stormed past him, making his way down the beach.


	6. Back to Camp

Dean couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It lingered on his lips for hours after, it stuck to his tongue like a bad taste. Except it hadn’t been a bad taste; it had been a very good taste. Maybe it was the anger or the adrenaline that had been clouding Dean’s judgment at the time or maybe it was just because Castiel was an attractive dude but for whatever reason, Dean enjoyed kissing him.

Night had fallen moments ago, shrouding the island in darkness. Dean found tranquility in watching the dark waves crash against the shoreline. He had lived in Kansas for practically his entire life and didn’t get the chance to visit the ocean much throughout his time on Earth. He regretted that. He wanted to dig his toes into the sand and drink more of those stupid brightly colored drinks. He didn’t get to do that enough. If he was going to be trapped on this island forever, one thing he would regret was not going to the beach more. 

He sat in the sand, his knees drawn to his chest. He was close enough to the water that he risked getting the legs of his pants wet, but he didn’t bother rolling them up. He was tired. 

He glanced over at the movement on the other end of the beach. Despite the darkness, he could see Cas moving around, tossing things into a large pile. He was making a fire, or so Dean assumed. They had made a few smaller fires here and there while on the island, hoping that someone would see the smoke. Hoping that someone would come to get them. 

Dean sighed towards the sky, suddenly finding appreciation for the stars that sparkled above him. He smiled at them, cheesily wondering if Sam or Charlie were looking at the same stars as he was. He pushed the thought out of his mind, realizing it was dumb and that Sam and Charlie wouldn’t be looking at the stars, they would be trying to find a way to rescue Dean. 

Dean eventually got to his feet and dusted the sand from his pants. He knew he had to go back to the campsite eventually, especially because he left his bag over there, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try and prolong it as much as possible. 

Dean approached their basecamp and saw Cas crouched over the pile of wood, attempting to start a fire with the stick in between his hands.

“There’s a lighter in my bag, you know,” Dean pointed out. 

Cas didn’t look up. Dean knew that he had been heard, though, because Cas suddenly began to spin his stick faster, moving his hands up and down it. 

“Damnit, Cas,” Dean murmured. He picked his bag up from behind one of the trees and flipped it open, digging around for his lighter. He pulled it out and held it in his hand for just a moment before holding it to Cas. “Take the lighter.”

Cas froze for a second and Dean watched as his shoulders dropped. He reached over his shoulder and took the lighter from between Dean’s fingers without turning to look at him. He struck the lighter, a small flame suddenly grew into a large one as he fed the fire, eventually handing the lighter back to Dean. 

Dean took a seat against one of the trees, the sharp bark poking through his shirt. Cas sat on the other side of the fire. Dean kept looking at him through the warm glow of the flames, his face orange and yellow. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas kept his head low, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes through the fire. He fiddled with his dirt-caked hands in his lap. “I’m sorry,” He repeated. 

The logs crackled and popped, shooting embers into the night sky.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Cas said. “That was wrong of me.”

“Well, then, it was wrong of me to kiss back,” Dean replied. 

Cas didn’t respond. 

“If I come sit over there are you going to bash my skull in?” Dean joked, already getting to his feet. He walked around the fire, careful not to trip over any stray logs, and took a seat against a tree not too far from where Cas was. 

Dean leaned his head back against the trunk of the tree and sighed. He closed his eyes for just a moment and focused on the sound of the fire, the sound of Cas’s breathing a few feet away from him. The sound of ocean waves rolling against the shoreline. 

They didn’t exchange any other words for the rest of the night. They just went through the motions; eating what they could and trying to quench their thirst. They sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for the fire to die down. The flames grew smaller and smaller, much like the hope that Dean cradled so closely. They had been there for too long; they were surely on their own by now. Someone must have called off the search. 

Charlie wouldn’t allow them to call off the search. Dean almost smiled at the thought- Charlie will keep looking for him. He knows she will.

Dean looked over at Castiel, his face just barely illuminated by the dying fire. Dean wanted Cas to look over at him, to just tear his eyes away from the fire for a second. But he didn’t. At least not until much later, long after the fire had died out. They hadn’t moved from their spots in the dark when Cas finally glanced over at Dean. It was so quick Dean almost missed it (he would have been pissed if that had happened), but Cas looked at Dean and their eyes met. Cas smiled softly, just barely the ends of his mouth turning up. It was almost impossible to see in the dark of the night, but the bright stars above assisted with that. Dean smiled back. 

That night they slept with their backs barely five feet apart. Dean faced towards the water, his arms clutching onto his messenger bag as he tried not to think about how he could roll over and be right next to Cas. Did Dean actually feel something for Cas or was it just because they were both alone on an island? He fell asleep long before he could answer the question. 

\---

They hadn’t been awake for very long when Cas suddenly stood up, tossing the remains of crab meat breakfast aside. 

“We have to do something,” Cas said sharply. 

Dean furrowed to eyebrows, unsure what Cas meant by “something”. 

“I’m sick of sitting around here- it’s about damn time we find a way off this God-forsaken island.”

“I mean, I agree with you, Cas, but what exactly do you want to do?”

Cas smiled and Dean suddenly became very afraid of what was going to come rolling off his tongue next. “I think we should climb the mountain.”

Dean turned to look at the rocky mountain that loomed over the rest of the island. It probably wasn’t even that tall, but it was steep and intimidating (especially if you haven’t been eating or sleeping properly). 

“What do you really think we’re going to find up there?” Dean picked at the leftover crab that had somehow got itself stuck between his teeth. He missed burgers. 

Cas shrugged. “Probably nothing. I’m just sick of sitting around here.”

Dean let out a sigh. “Lemme get my bag.”

With Dean’s bag slung over his shoulder and Cas eagerly walking in the direction of the so-called mountain, they trekked through the woods. They had begun to make themselves a path, seemingly because they took the same route every time they went inland. It was easy enough to follow the trampled leaves through the thick jungle. 

It didn’t take long for the terrain to begin to slope upwards. It was a slow ascent at first, the ground mainly consisting of dirt and grass. But as they pushed onwards Dean realized he had to put in actual effort if he wanted to keep going. 

They hiked up the mountain side, Dean trying to take bigger steps so that he could move his legs less. They had climbed above the top of the trees and with no protection against the hot sun, Dean could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his shirt. 

After walking for ages in complete silence (well, silent if you ignore their heavy breathing) they reached what would be considered the top. It was a fairly flat area, and the moment they reached it Dean planted his sweaty hands on his knees and took in a deep breath. 

“Well, shit,” Cas said, prompting Dean to look up.

He walked over next to Cas, who was standing a little too close to the edge. He shielded his eyes against the sun by lifting his arm in front of his face, allowing himself to finally see what prompted Cas to swear. 

There was nothing. Blue water stretched out in all directions, melding with the horizon to the point where you couldn’t tell what was water and what was sky. 

“Holy fuck,” Dean murmured. “I thought- maybe there would… _fuck_.” He didn’t really know what he was expecting; maybe another island nearby? Maybe they would see a boat on the horizon? But there was nothing. Dean felt uneasy and he clutched his stomach, suddenly fueled with the desire to vomit. 

“This was useless,” Cas sneered. “There’s nothing!”

“We are completely isolated,” Dean stammered. 

They couldn’t stand to be up there any longer. They had put off climbing the mountain for so long Dean couldn’t help but have hope for what they would find at the top. The mountain was his way of thinking that maybe there was someone else out there, maybe there was a way off that they just hadn’t found yet. But there wasn’t. There was quite literally nothing. Any bit of hope Dean had left had drained from his body. 

Defeated and with nothing else to do, they began to make their way back down the mountain. 

\----- 

Dean was a few paces behind Cas, not really paying too much attention to their surroundings as they made their way back down the mountain side. Dean still had the sinking feeling in his stomach- the feeling that they were going to be stuck here forever. He couldn’t seem to shake it off no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. 

He looked up at Cas, who kept drifting off to the side. Dean didn’t want to say anything, in fear of pushing him away again, but as Cas got closer and closer to the edge Dean couldn’t help but speak up.

Of course, though, he did it a little too late. 

Castiel kept looking anywhere but the direction he was headed in. Before Dean could even open his mouth he saw Cas’s foot slip off the edge, pulling the rest of his body after. 

“Fuck!” Cas cursed as he skidded down the slope. It wasn’t an actual drop, more like a steep decline, but Dean was panicking nonetheless. 

Dean stood helplessly in place as Cas rolled down the mountainside, banging against every rock in his path. He eventually got caught up in a large bush, bringing him to a stop. Dean scrambled to the edge, careful not to make the same mistake as his pilot friend. 

“Cas!” Dean shouted, using his hands to amplify his voice. “Are you alright?!” 

Cas raised a limp hand and gave what Dean could only assume to be a half-assed thumbs up. At least he was alive. 

“Can you move?” Dean asked. He could see the way Cas’s body was twisted; there was no way he was going to get out of this one without some damage. 

Cas tried to push himself out of the but faltered. Even despite the distance, Dean could see the pain on his face every time he tried to move. 

“I can’t move my leg!” Cas panicked. He looked down at his leg and then back up at Dean with wide eyes. 

“Just uh, just hang on,” Dean said, trying to find some footing in the loose dirt. “I’m going to come get you.”

Dean dug his foot into the side of the mountain, wrapping his fingers tightly around a root jutting out of the ground. He moved his other foot and let out a curt breath, already searching for the next handhold. 

Slowly but surely, he began to make his way down towards Cas. He was trying to be extra careful, fully aware that they would be utterly helpless if both of them were injured. As he neared Castiel he could feel this urge to move quicker, to get to him faster. His clouded mind is what caused him to slip. 

He didn’t go flailing down the mountainside, thank God, but it took him a minute to find solid footing again. He felt a sharp pain in his leg and glanced down, noticing a wide gash along the back of his calf. 

“Ah, shit,” He murmured, watching thick blood trickle down the back of his leg. 

Ignoring his bloody leg and being extra careful with his steps, he eventually got to where Cas was seated. He had adjusted himself into a more acceptable position, but his leg remained straight in front of him, his foot hanging limply at the end. 

Dean crouched down and took a look at Cas’ ankle, which was red and swollen. He let out a heavy sigh and smiled up at Cas. 

“Well it’s definitely broken, or at least sprained,” Dean told him. “Does it hurt bad?”

Cas shook his head. “Just uh, don’t expect me to walk out of here.”

Dean scoffed a little, maybe even letting out a small laugh. “I told you that you were going to get yourself killed,” Dean joked.

Cas didn’t respond. His face had fallen flat, his lips drawn into a tight line. He avoided Dean’s gaze for a moment and focused his eyes somewhere else. Dean became worried he had pushed Cas’ boundaries again, worried that he had upset him, but Cas turned to face him slowly. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He asked quietly. 

Dean didn’t understand what he meant and tilted his head to show it. “ _You_ don’t have to do anything, I’m gonna get you back to camp.”

Cas continued as if he hadn’t heard anything Dean had just said. “You were right, you know. I should have known better. I knew the risks that the storm would bring, I thought it was worth it. I thought I calculated everything right, I thought we could avoid the worst of it.”

“Cas- c’mon, man. I only said that shit because I was frustrated. Of course, this mess isn’t your fault. It’s just a sucky situation and- it’s not your fault,” He needed someone to blame it on. Dean was angry and frustrated and he needed to blame someone for it because it was easier than accepting reality. Unfortunately Cas was the only other person around, so the blame went to him. 

“When Jo called she made you sound desperate. She said you needed help and I-” Cas sighed, “I just want to help people. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” His breath was shaking, his chest rising and falling at an unsteady rate. “You know, I didn’t get my pilot license to fly tourists back and forth across the islands- I wanted to join the Defence Force.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I thought you said you just wanted to become a pilot because you thought it was fun.”

Cas scoffed loudly. “Forgive me for not telling my client that I’m too much of a coward to join the military five minutes after meeting him.”

Cas went quiet again after that. 

“I’m thankful you wanted to help,” Dean said. He couldn’t let the silence drag on for any longer. “Not many people want to help just for the hell of it.”

Cas didn’t even look at Dean when he spoke. “My helpfulness got us stranded on this fucking island. We’re stuck on this island and I- I’m all sorts of messed up,” He stuttered through his words, “I’m hearing shit and seeing things that aren’t there. I can’t concentrate on anything- It’s like I’m always dizzy and I can’t stop- I can’t do anything. I got into this mess because I wanted to help and now I can’t even think straight.” His voice had long since broken, surpassed defeated, the words throwing themselves out of his mouth. It was like opening a set of flood gates. 

“Cas,” Dean said sternly, “You can’t shut down like this. Not now, not when we’ve made it this far. We’re going to get out of here, together. I know you aren’t at full capacity but you’ve gotta stay with me- just keep that pilot light burning. You can’t give up right now- okay? I’m not just going to push you away because you think you can’t help. It doesn’t matter how helpful you think you are, I’m not basing my opinion on you based on what you can and can’t do. You aren’t a tool, Cas.”

Cas turned to face him, his bright blue eyes glossed over, and he gave the slightest nod of his head. 

“Now, we’re going to get off this island _together_. I’m not sure how, but we are, okay?” 

Cas nodded again. 

“Just please- you, you gotta stay with me,” Dean’s voice was hoarse, something he would like to blame the dehydration for. 

After a mutual, yet silent, agreement was shared between them, Dean offered a hand to Cas. He managed to pull Cas to his feet, wrapping one arm around his waist to keep him from falling. Cas had wrapped one of his arms around Dean’s neck, clinging onto him to make up for the fact that he was balancing on one foot. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, softly.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Dean smiled warmly. He shouldn’t have had to think about it for as long as he did, but when he finally remembered that he was actually supposed to give an answer, he nodded his head. “Yeah, yeah you can kiss me.”

Cas used his free hand and cupped the side of Dean’s face, running his thumb over the stubble on his cheek. Cas leaned in first, but Dean couldn’t help but meet him halfway. It was much softer than the first time they had kissed, but no less exhilarating. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest and he tightened his hands around Cas’s waist, suddenly needing him to be closer. 

Cas’s lips were beyond chapped, but being on island would do that to you. Dean didn’t mind, of course, for he was sure his own lips were in no better shape. Cas pulled away gently but stayed close enough that Dean could still feel his breath. Their foreheads were pressed together and Dean wanted to close the small gap between them. He wanted to kiss Cas again and again, wanted to wrap his arms around Cas and never let go. 

“Dean?” The name rolled off Cas’s tongue and made Dean smile. 

“Hmm?” Dean hummed, closing his eyes and focusing on savoring the taste Cas had left behind on his lips. 

“I think we should head back to camp.”

Those words might insinuate that Cas wanted to end the moment, that he wanted to break away from Dean and go back to how things were before they kissed. But the way he said them, so confidently and so breathy, left little to no room for interpretation.

“Can’t argue with that,” Dean smiled.


	7. Normalcy

Dean and Cas successfully made it back to base camp without injuring themselves even further. Cas spent the majority of the day trying to nurse his leg back to health, but it was quite clear that he had broken something. They tried to wrap it up as tightly as they could (using the same blood stained shirt Cas had hung onto since the crash) but it was no surprise that Cas stayed off his feet. 

To say that they couldn’t tear themselves apart would have been an understatement. Dean would leave his hand on Cas’s arm for just a little too long and Cas would be constantly leaning on Dean for “support” due to his injured leg. It was strange that Dean managed to find the tiniest bit of normality while being stranded on a deserted island. 

Cas kept saying that he wanted to help with something, wanted to do something to make up for all the damage he’s caused. Of course, Dean kept telling him that there was no damage to make up for. That getting a severe concussion wasn’t his fault. 

But, nonetheless, Castiel insisted Dean bring him things to do. So Cas spent the day shucking coconuts and braiding together thin strips of wood. They had no purpose for any rope-like material, but Cas said it was fun and it kept him busy. He ended up making a little bracelet, which he gifted to Dean. Dean accepted without hesitation. 

The day had been just about as uneventful as all of the other days spent on the island. Dean practiced his spear throwing, trying to catch them some sort of crab dinner (like Tom Hanks did in Castaway, that movie was honest to God one of the only reasons Dean had made it this far).

As night began to settle on the horizon, Dean gathered wood and leave so that they could build a fire. The crackling flames not only provided a way to cook food, but it also provided warmth. It wasn’t particularly cold on the island, but the heat radiating from the fire reminded Dean of the indoors. So he enjoyed it. 

Dean and Cas leaned against a tree, shoulders pressed together, as they watched the fire dance in front of them. They didn’t talk, but instead of the nail biting awkwardness that usually followed silence, Dean found comfort in the quiet. 

Of course, nothing was ever completely quiet on the island. The waves crashed into the shore. Insects chirped in the trees and small animals rustled the leaves on the ground. But all of that had become easier to tune out over the past few days. Dean was, dare he admit it, growing used to the isolation. 

\---

“Dean!” Cas shouted. “Dean! Wake up!”

Dean draped his forearm across his eyes, trying to shield himself from the sun. He let out a grown and tried to mumble the words “I’m tired”, but it came out as an unintelligible groan. 

“Dean, this is serious!” Cas gripped onto his shoulder and tried to shake him out of his slumber. “Listen!” 

Dean forced open his eyes and saw Cas sitting next to him with a panicked expression on his face. He propped himself up on his elbow and stifled a yawn.

“Do you hear that?” Cas asked him. Dean could see the panic in his eyes, the fear of whatever he was hearing not being real. So Dean listened. 

He didn’t hear anything at first, nothing besides the lapping ocean waves or the rustling of the trees in the breeze. Just as he was going to respond, he heard it. It was so faint at first that Dean could have easily mistaken it for something else at first, or maybe just not even heard it at all. 

It was a helicopter. Dean could hear the distant thud of a helicopter rotor.

“Holy shit,” Dean exclaimed, shooting upwards. “Holy shit!” 

Both Dean and Cas jumped to their feet, their bodies turned in the direction of the noise. Dean’s first instinct was to start screaming, start jumping up and down and begging. He didn’t even know if this was a search team or just a helicopter passing through. They had to be smart about this. 

“Smoke signals,” Dean blurted, already on his way over towards his bag. 

He dug through it quickly and fumbled with his lighter, quickly striking it and holding it under a palm leaf he picked up from the ground. Once lit, he tossed it into the pile of ash left over from their previous fires. Cas figured out what Dean was doing and began quickly adding scraps to the pile, trying to find anything to burn just so they could make more smoke. More smoke meant they were more noticeable. 

The smoke began to crawl into the blue sky and Dean could just barely see the tiny speck of a helicopter on the horizon. 

“We’re getting out of here,” Dean whispered. He let out a halted breath before turning to Cas, grinning. “We’re getting the fuck out of here!” He laughed loudly as the minuscule helicopter slowly became more visible. 

“We’re going home!” Cas cheered as he threw his arms around Dean’s neck, yanking him into an embrace. 

Dean gripped onto Cas and pressed a quick kiss to the side of his temple. The sound of the helicopter grew louder and Dean pulled back, waving one of his hands high above his head. 

“We’re here!” He couldn’t help but shout. If the helicopter pilots hadn’t seen their smoke signal or the giant SOS they had written in the sand, he doubts shouting would have done them much good. 

Cas joined him in the shouting, probably also aware that it was useless. He had one arm wrapped around Dean’s shoulder to support him on his bad leg. They were holding onto each other, more importantly. Holding on as if it was the only humanity they had left. 

The helicopter was suddenly so close that they were backing away, trying to cover their ears with their free hands. The aircraft landed, blades spinning to stop as the sheer wind force kicked up sand in all directions. Both Dean and Cas turned away. Dean tried to shield his eyes, cover his ears, and hold onto Cas all at the same time. 

What followed was a complete blur. The second the helicopter doors popped open, Dean heard someone screaming his name. When Dean saw the flash of red hair he immediately knew it was Charlie, who tackled him to the ground and started shouting. She was a mess, hugging him tightly and saying how she knew that Dean was alive, how she knew that they would find him. Dean thinks she mentioned something about having to hire her own search team. 

The next thing Dean can remember was being shuttled into the helicopter and being handed a pair of light blue headphones, much like the ones he had worn in Castiel’s helicopter (which remained dead on the beach). 

The ride itself wasn’t very memorable. Just bits and pieces, everyone moving so quickly and carefully. Dean sat close to Cas as they both of them were being handed water after water. The people on the helicopter must have mentioned where they were going, but Dean was too distracted to remember what they said. 

He was filled with so much adrenaline that it felt like his tired body was being controlled by a puppeteer who had him on strings. It all felt like a dream to him. It all felt so distant and euphoric; it just couldn’t be real. 

At some point, he fell asleep. The vibrations from the engine were mesmerizing in the way a mother lullaby mesmerized a child. He doesn’t know if Cas fell asleep before he did, but Dean was sure Cas fell asleep during the ride. The pair of them weaved in and out of their sleep state, one of them waking up and stirring the other, only to fall back asleep moments later.

The next time Dean was fully awake, he was no longer in the helicopter. The bright lights burned worse than the sun and rendered him disoriented. Everything seemed so bright (the stark white walls didn’t help) and he had a _pounding_ headache. 

“Dean?” 

Dean pushed open his eyes and tried to focus his vision. Standing next to his bed was a tall figure and it didn’t take Dean very long to realize who it was. 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean groaned. 

Sam burst into a grin and sat down in a chair, pulling it as close to Dean’s bed as he could.

“Holy shit,” Sam scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re alive!” Sam spoke more with his hands than he did with his mouth. He kept parting his lips to say more, but nothing came out. 

Dean nodded his head wearily. He knew that on any other occasion he would be complaining about how stiff the hospital mattress seemed to be, but anything was luxurious when compared to sleeping on the jungle floor. 

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, “They’re pumping you full of water to deal with the dehydration.”

Dean saw the thin tube attached to the inside of his forearm leading back up to a bag hanging on a hook. 

“They also stitched up your leg,” Sam told him. 

Dean could feel the familiar prickling sensation on the back of his leg. He had gotten stitches a lot throughout his childhood and didn’t find it surprising that the idea of stitches gave him some sort of comfort. 

“Did I miss anything exciting?” Dean asked. He looked away from where his legs were under the blue sheet and turned to face Sam. 

Sam shook his head and pushed back his dark hair. “Nothing too much. You’ve been all over the news, though. What the hell happened out there?”

Dean sighed and shook his head. “We got caught in a storm. There was… a microburst, I think it was called. All the flights were grounded because of the weather but I-” Dean stopped before he could finish his sentence. 

“You what, Dean?”

“How’s Dad?” 

Sam smiled softly and fiddled with his hands in his lap. He shook his head gently and didn’t look up when he began to speak. “He’s uh,” Sam cleared his throat, “Comatose. He got banged up pretty bad in the wreck and the doctors can’t say much.”

Dean didn’t say anything in response but instead grabbed the remote off of the small bedside table. He clicked on the TV and pulled up the news just in time to see his own success story. The anchor spoke about how a helicopter went down in the ocean, carrying only one passenger and the pilot-

“Cas,” Dean blurted out, dropping the remote to his side. He turned to Sam with wide eyes. “Where the fuck is Cas?”

Sam cocked his head. 

“The pilot I was with, damn it!” Dean flung the sheet off the bed and swung his legs around to the side, wincing at the sudden movement. 

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere,” Sam told him, standing up and trying to block the way out. “We can call for one of the doctors-”

“Sam, I need to go find him.”

Sam gently pushed on Dean’s shoulder, trying to get him to get back into the bed. “That’s really not smart right now. You’re going to tear your stitches!”

Dean yanked the IV tube out of his arm and tossed it as far as it would go. 

“Dean, I’m being serious, you need to stay in bed.”

Dean stood up, the cold linoleum floor shocking his bare feet. He suddenly realized how cold the room was, now that he was out from the comfort of his blanket and wearing nothing but a thin, blue hospital gown. 

“I just need to see if he’s okay,” Dean pleaded. 

Sam didn’t say anything back, but when Dean walked around him he did nothing to stop him. Dean looked up and down the hallway, seeing plenty of people shuffling themselves between rooms. It didn’t take long for a doctor to approach him. 

“Mr. Winchester,” She smiled warmly, placing a hand on Dean’s arm while her other hand held onto a clipboard. “What are you doing up?”

“Where’s Castiel?” He stuttered out. “The helicopter pilot, Castiel Novak- where is he?”

“He’s fine,” She said. 

Dean rolled his eyes, “That’s not what I asked. Where is he?”

The doctor, who had a badge clipped to her jacket that said her name was Dr. Carson, tried to direct Dean back to his room. When Dean wouldn’t budge, she sighed gently. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this but it seems that you’re adamant about seeing your friend. He’s just down the hall, room 401.”

Dean bid her a thank you and walked down the hall, not paying any mind to any of the questionable looks he got from the other doctors. He counted under his breath and he passed each door before finally reaching the sacred 401. 

The wood door was already slightly ajar and Dean was conflicting on whether or not he should knock. He inhaled a deep breath and tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. 

The first thing Dean noticed was the large white bandage wrapped around the side of Cas’s head, covering where the wound had been. He was propped up in the bed with a newspaper clutched loosely in his hands.

“Cas, hey,” Dean greeted, moving slowly into the room. 

Cas laid down his newspaper and smiled at Dean, who was taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Dean smiled back and placed his hands nervously on his knees. Dean was the one to ask what he was sure they were both thinking. 

“What now?”

Cas shrugged and turned his head to look out the large glass window on the other side of the room. “I guess we go back to our normal lives,” He said, “I’ll head back to the island and you’ll go back to Kansas with your family.”

In theory, yeah, that’s what supposed to happen. But Dean could hear the hint of sadness in Cas’s voice. 

They had spent just about a week on that stupid island. That wasn’t a lot of time, Dean knew that, but getting deserted in the middle of the ocean will mess with your head. They had depended on each other, relied on each other, for the whole time they were there. They were all they had. In the grand scheme of things, a week was nothing, just a blip of time that would soon blur with the rest of the year. But surviving a helicopter crash isn’t something you just forget about. It’s not something you put behind you. 

“I don’t know if I want to go back to my normal life,” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper. He did want to go back to his normal life but what he was trying to say is that he didn’t want to go back to before he knew Cas. He wasn’t ready to give that up. Not just yet. 

Cas reached over and took Dean’s hand, bringing it up to his mouth and lightly kissing the top of his knuckles. Dean could feel his breath wash over the skin of his hand. 

“Me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! Thank you so much for reading! I'm going to be honest here; I don't think I've written a full fic in about 2 years. I know this one was kind of short and sweet, but I think it was just what I needed to get back in the game. I'm really hoping to write longer fics in the future and get back to my old ways, but until then I just wanted to say thank you so much for reading this short little fic of mine! I hope you have a wonderful day and if anyone wants to come harass me on tumblr for some reason, my username is redlineriot. <3


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